


Idoles Tombées

by orphan_account



Series: Idoles Tombées [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Cousin Incest, Incest, M/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has an embarrassing secret, an obsession that will cost him everything should it be revealed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idoles Tombées

**Author's Note:**

> There's not a lot I can say for this one. Questionable themes; fairly offensive content.
> 
> I wrote this in the midst of my love affair with this pairing, a love affair I shared with the wonderful artist, Flayu, who made some beautiful art for both this story and the sequel. Visit her DA page. Know her. Love her.

Strangers tell Louis all the time that he is beautiful. Clearly they have never seen Albus Potter.

Louis thinks the boy is a walking masterpiece, blessed with slender hands and creamy skin, a pert little nose, full pink lips and big doe eyes—such an unnaturally vivid shade of green, those eyes—framed by impossibly long black lashes... Louis spends all day daydreaming about that perfect face, waxing poetic about it in his notebooks or sketching it out in the back of his Charms textbook when he should be studying for his NEWTs.

He deems it an appropriate waste of his time.

If anything's going to bring about his demise, it might as well be Albus.

~o~

It all began the summer Louis turned sixteen and rather suddenly couldn't stop wanking over Albus Potter's lips. At the time he'd been well aware that wanking over one's younger cousin's lips was a hugely improper pursuit, but had still been unable to stop—each time Albus sat down next to him during dinner or rested his head upon his shoulder, snuggled up beside him in front of the fire or cuddled him before bed, Louis would be sprung with an untimely erection he would then be forced to swiftly take care of before any of his housemates noticed he was flush-cheeked, trembling, and trying anything and everything to hide the bulge in his trousers.

For the first couple of months he'd been frequently sore between the legs.

But it is far worse now than he cares to admit. His feelings for Albus have only grown stronger with time, and Louis has come to realize that this is no passing phase: He will not grow out of this. He does not desire anyone else. He is dangerously obsessed with his own cousin, and will stop at nothing to possess every inch of him. He wants Albus as his lover, and no one else will do.

~o~

Such proclamations are difficult to enact when the object of one's affection has a father named Harry Potter. Each time Louis sees the man, he cringes and makes a hurried excuse to get away and hide. Uncle Harry must assume by this stage that Louis thinks ill of him, though this is not at all the case—Louis loves Harry, adores him even; but ever since his fixation with young Albus began, he has found it near impossible to look the Auror in the eye: He knows well that Harry is trained in Legilimency--the idea he might look at Louis and see any of the depraved fantasies his nephew harbors for his precious son is more horrific than any nightmare Louis can recall. He is sure, beyond a shadow of doubt, that Harry would slice him ear-to-ear if he knew the truth.

The Potters stay at Shell Cottage for a few days over Christmas break, and Louis can't believe his own bad luck. He has Albus alone of course, in his room of all places, but the fact Uncle Harry sleeps only a few doors down puts something of a damper on Louis's excitement. Still, he is determined not to lay a finger on Albus while the boy's father is under the same roof, and will not be tempted to steal so much as a kiss.

He has never before received a greater lesson in self-control.

It doesn't help much that Albus likes to play with Louis's fingers when they're in bed, twisting them fitfully around his own as he sleeps. Albus is far too trusting of him, and this is one of the things Louis loves most about him. He is still so innocent and sweet; uncorrupted. Louis thinks it will be a great tragedy to take that away from him, and so for the time being he makes an effort to keep his hands and lips and cock to himself.

He works out his pent-up aggression through exercise instead, the only thing that seems to alleviate the tension some. His sisters tease him for his vanity, though neither of them can talk much on that subject without looking ridiculous—the pair of them are as vain as they come. But for Louis, vanity hardly enters into it. When he is running, lifting weights, doing push-ups and crunches, he is single-minded and not, for a change, fixated upon sex. He can't think about sex, or all the things he would like to do to Albus with his tongue; not when his muscles ache and he is dripping with sweat and fighting to catch his breath. Afterwards he will sometimes sleep for a few hours, and this takes care of a good portion of the day: He does not have to see Uncle Harry except during dinner, and save for bedtimes will not be confronted with Albus's beautiful face at random intervals throughout the day.

He keeps his wanking to a schedule, too, in order to avoid ill-timed erections: once in the morning, a quick one of an afternoon, and a leisurely one at night before bed. It is essential that he wank before going to bed with Albus—if he doesn't, he is sure the frustration will cause him to do something he regrets, and he does not want to hurt Albus. He doesn't want to touch him at all until the time is right.

  
His plan seems to be going swimmingly until Christmas morning, when Albus asks Louis if he is avoiding him: "I just feel like we haven't spent any time together since we've been here," the boy says, worrying his lower-lip between his teeth and staring down at his feet. "You always seem like you're too busy to talk to me. I have to go home tomorrow and ... I just hope I haven't done anything to make you angry with me, that's all. I _miss_ you."

Louis thinks he just might turn into a puddle of goo on the floor. He steers Albus back into the bedroom and sits him down on the bed. "It wasn't intentional," he lies, kneeling down before his cousin. "And of course I'm not angry with you; how could I be? I've just been busy with NEWTs; you know how it is. I haven't had the time to muck about with the rest of you; I have to study. I'm sorry, Al."

Albus looks crestfallen. "You exercise a lot," he mumbles, still not looking at him, and Louis is mildly grateful for this—he doesn't think he could stand to look into those gorgeous eyes and not give in to the temptation to kiss the boy they belong to.

Instead he laughs and replies, "You know what the girls say about me: I'm too vain for my own good."

Albus frowns at this. "You're not vain; you're the least vain person I know." Louis doesn't know what to say to this, and so says nothing at all.

"I could go with you?" Albus suggests hopefully, and Louis smiles.

"And what would you need to exercise for, mon chéri? You're perfect just the way you are."

Albus tries and fails to suppress a smile, and Louis's heart gives a painful throb.

"So are you," the boy tells him quietly, and fiddles with the hem of his pajama top.

Louis's mouth is dry. He tries to tell himself to stop and think, but before the thought even registers, his hand slides over Albus's thigh, gently squeezing the firm flesh beneath his palm. The boy stares at him, curious, but does not look afraid.

"Do you want to do something today?" Albus asks quietly. "Together?"

Louis's eyes flutter closed and he reminds himself to breathe. His restraint is slipping despite his good intentions. "I do," he says finally, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "We'll do something together before you go home—just the two of us. How does that sound?"

Albus gives him a slow smile and leans back a little, supporting himself on his hands. "Brilliant. What did you have in mind?"

 _Sex_ , Louis's mind answers helpfully. _Sex, sex, sex, sex_... "We could go into town?" he offers quickly, begging his brain to shut the fuck up. "We'll get a drink or something and ... talk."

"Just talk?" Albus tilts his head to one side in that bird-like way of his.

Louis narrows his eyes at his younger cousin. Although the boy's expression is innocent, his tone is anything but. The thought crosses Louis's mind that perhaps Albus isn't as guileless as he seems, but he quickly dismisses it. He imagines it is nothing but wishful thinking on his part. "Yes," he says, trying not to hyperventilate. "Why, what else did you want to do?"

The look on Albus's face turns serious, and his eyes are full of intent. He puts his hand over Louis's and whispers, "I don't know if I should answer that, Louis."

Rendered speechless by this, Louis is primed for a heart attack when Uncle Harry's booming laughter reverberates through the house. He removes his hand from Albus's thigh in an instant and gets to his feet. Albus peers up at him from the bed, lashes thick and dark against his skin, and Louis mumbles, "We should probably get back out there; they'll be wondering where we've got to."

"So let them wonder," Albus says with a small shrug. "I want to stay here for a bit. I've missed you so much." He rolls his lip around between his teeth until it is red and wet and begging to be kissed. Louis lets out a small whimper when he feels Albus's foot run along the back of his leg. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to remember that this is not a dream or fantasy, and that Albus is unlikely to appreciate being slammed back against the mattress and roughly fucked.

His mouth waters at the thought.

Clutching at the last threads of his sanity, he says, "Really, Al, we shouldn't be in here. Come on now; get your clothes on and we'll go have breakfast." Albus pouts. "I don't understand why you're so eager to get away," he huffs. "I was under the impression you _liked_ it when I touched you."

Louis feels lightheaded as the blood slowly drains from his face. "I don't know what you mean," he says, rather unconvincingly.

Albus rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Louis. You hardly ever look at me, and whenever you do you blush like a rose. Oh, and you always make that face when we're in bed together," he adds as an afterthought.

"What face?" Louis asks weakly, absolutely stunned.

Albus laughs and pulls a face. "Like this. See?"

Louis has to sit down on the bed to keep from falling over, and as soon as he does Albus climbs into his lap and cuddles him, arms tight around his neck. "I knew I wasn't imagining it," he murmurs into Louis's hair. He leans back to stare at him. "I was hoping you'd say something before you left school. I didn't want you to forget about me."

Dazed, Louis winds an arm around the boy and balances him on his knee. A wave of sadness, of longing, washes over him. "How could I forget about you, hm?" Trembling, he places two fingers beneath Albus's chin and gently tilts his jaw. He leans close until their breath mingles, and it feels as though he's waited centuries for this moment. Eyes fixed on Albus's soft lower lip, Louis catches it between both of his own and lets the almost-kiss linger for a few moments.

When he draws away, Albus is flushed red, his eyes tightly shut. He whispers: "I've wanted you to do that for so long," and Louis can't tear his eyes away from that beautiful mouth. He thinks of all the times he has wanked to this picture, imagined Albus's lips wrapped around his cock, sucking and choking on it, and he can't believe his dreams are finally coming true... Well, almost, anyway.

"I don't want this to be the last time," Louis confesses, running his hands over Albus's sides and squeezing his shoulder blades. What he wouldn't give to take him right here and now... "But we have to be ... careful." He feels dizzy, and fights to keep his control. "If your father—"

"I won't tell anyone if you won't," Albus says quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. He puts a hand to Louis's face and rubs a thumb over his cheekbone. "If I promise to keep a secret, could we maybe ... do this again? Please?"

Louis stifles a groan and covers Albus's delicate hand with his own. "Of course we can," he breathes. How could he ever deny this beautiful creature anything he might desire? "I'll do anything for you, Al. Anything at all."

Albus tilts his head to one side, looking thoughtful, and runs his fingertips from Louis's throat, down over his chest and abdomen. "I want you to—"

"AL!" It is Uncle Harry. Perfect timing, as always. "AL, GET DOWN HERE; YOUR BREAKFAST IS GOING COLD!"

Louis's heart hammers guiltily—if only Uncle Harry could see them right now—but Albus just rolls his eyes, clearly irritated at being interrupted. "Bloody hell," he mutters. "I wish we were alone somewhere." He looks down at Louis and brushes his lips across his cheek. "Later?" Oh, the sense of promise that word evokes.

"Later," Louis manages without stuttering, and leans forward to steal another kiss. Albus lets out a tiny squeak of surprise, laughing, and says, "I'm sort of hoping I don't wake up now and find that this is all a dream."

Louis smiles against his lips. "I know exactly what you mean."

_~Finis~_


End file.
